


Discipline

by Vituperative_cupcakes



Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: Anal Sex, Coercion, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 03:09:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1763737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vituperative_cupcakes/pseuds/Vituperative_cupcakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Lester...have you been a bad boy?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Discipline

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written any Lornester in a while. Time to remedy that.

“Lester, have you been a bad boy?”

The voice hits him right in the lower back and wraps around to curdle his lower abdomen. He is instantaneously half-hard.

Lester is poised with his key sitting just outside the lock of his hotel room door, only a second before he had been considering taking a real nightcap and snuggling his head between Linda's breasts to ward away the bad dreams when the past blew over him in a chill wind.

Lester braces his right hand flat on the doorjamb, the other unconsciously opened to show he is unarmed. Nothing touches him, but he senses that Lorne is still behind him, can feel him just _there_.

He licked his lips. “Lorne?”

“If you like.”

That's right. He has a different name now, doesn't he? Lester can tell that much from the failed attempt at reconnecting at the bar. But he is still the same Lorne beneath the surface; cool, calm, and totally in control. Lester had thought up until this moment that he was the opposite; a new Lester Nygaard under the same name. But now he realizes, as his strength flees him and he hunches his shoulders as if preparing for a blow, he isn't.

“Not out here.” His voice breaks adolescently.

A chuckle. “I wasn't planning on it, you kinky bitch.”

A confused inferno of emotions kicks up at that. Lester licks his lips.

“I–”

“Whatever you think's gonna happen, you probably want to happen away from public eye.” Another chuckle. “Linda's down in the lobby, don't worry.”

Lester's arm moves fluidly, independent of his will, and turns the key in the lock.

Lorne nods at the décor. “Nice one. I remember the last time we spoke, I was staying at a real shithole. You've done well for yourself.”

“You changed your hair,” slips out of Lester's mouth before he can catch it. Lorne smiles warmly.

“You changed yours.” He ruffles Lester's and suddenly Lester feels ridiculously young, like a kid caught out after curfew.

“You should be glad you found me. Your wife met an old friend on the elevator up and changed her mind about turning in. Another five minutes she'dve caught you.”

Lester stammers, stalling for time: “H–how did you know her name?”

Lorne smiles as if to say _of course_ and Lester is so ashamed he doesn't bother to press the issue. 

“Well, well, well, look at you go.” Lorne is looking at him, Lorne is circling around him and Lester stands stock still, afraid to breathe. “I leave you a year ago, you have a nagging wife, bully problems, I come back a year later, look at you: Mr. Hot Shit.”

Lester has been puffed up all evening, with this one comment Lorne has popped him.

“I...” he gestured helplessly.

“Do you appreciate it?” Lorne asks suddenly.

“Sorry?”

Lorne cocks his head and scrutinizes, no longer smiling. The same look he'd given in the hospital waiting room one year ago.

“Would you say you've lived up to it? Have you worked hard to deserve the life you live now?”

Lester wants to say  _of course_ even though deep down he knows he still stares off into the distance sometimes, he's still not as good a husband as he could be, he's still not quite right in the world.

Instead he asks, “do you think so?”

Lorne cocks his head to the side.

“You want my honest opinion?”

Lester nods his head yes, emphatically yes.

“I think you're backsliding.”

Lester's throat is suddenly tight.

“You just got an award for top insurance salesman. You think Pearl died for that? You think Vern died for that?”

Lester shakes his head because he can't trust his voice right now.

Lorne finally stops pacing somewhere behind his shoulder. “Lester,” he says, and his tone is conciliatory. Lester isn't sure he can take kindness right now.

“Is this the only night or have there been others?”

“What?”

“In the bar.”

Lester wants to say  _no, no of course not_ but Lorne can smell a lie a mile away and of course he has. He's not used to being desirable, he's not used to being liked, and the feeling is so addicting some nights he can't help himself. 

“Linda deserves better.” Lester realizes he spoke that last part out loud.

Lorne chuckles. “That may be. But she's with you. And _you_ are the one playing with matches, Lester.”

He tilts Lester's chin up with one hand. “Salesman of the year,” he says, “I’d like to hear your pitch.”

Lester brings himself to meet Lorne's eyes and then Lorne drops his chin and shakes his head.

“Nevermind. I'm sure I already know what it is.”

He turns and walks to the bead. Lester is almost too scared to speak.

“Mr...Lorne?”

“Yup?” There's the sound of fabric sliding behind him. Lester licks his lips.

“Are you...are you mad?”

Lorne stops moving behind him, possibly thinking. “No. I can't bring myself to get mad at you, little guy.”

Lester practically deflates with the weight of his relieved breath.

“We do need to have a chat, though.” and then: “turn around.”

Lester finds that Lorne has stripped the bed of its (admittedly nice) hotel sheets and now stands scrutinizing Lester.

“You're not doing too bad, I guess,” Lorne said, “all you need is a little...correction.”

Lester doesn't even bother to hide his erection at those words. Lorne smirks and makes a disrobing motion with his hands. Leste'rs hands fly to his belt buckle before he can react. Too soon, he is completely naked in front of the hitman, feeling inadequate in every way.

Lorne smiles and gestures towards the bed. Lester crawls onto it obediently, keeping his head down. He stays on hands and knees because he hasn't been issued any other orders. There is another cloth sound of disrobing, and Lorne says:

“By the way, I ran into Gina Hess not too long ago.”

Lester freezes, faced down at the mattress.

“I set her to rights. In the end, she thanked me. I'd done her the first favor any man's done her in...well, lets say a while. She didn't have kind words to say about you, though.”

Lester kept silent.

“She did have some interesting things to say about your...preferences.”

The epiphany hits Lester with the force of a hammer blow and he wants to get up and run, run away from the crazy man, but part of him likes it, wants it, part of him tells the rest to stay put, because it loathes him and everything he stands for.

“Isn't it funny how a little perspective shift changes everything? One minute you're on top, the next...well.”

All the words he has never dared to speak, barely dared to think, dance behind his squeezed-shut eyes.

“Is this what you want, Lester?”

He nods before he has time to think; this is what he wants, this is what he's always wanted but has never been able to ask for.

There is a slick sound. Lester counts threads on the sheets.

“Now, I know this is cliché, but you gotta relax.”

A slick hand finds his cock and Lester realizes it is easy to relax, because he is no longer in ownership of his body. Even as he is penetrated slowly he doesn't move or cry out because he is Lorne's and is there for Lorne to do what he pleases.

“I knew the first time I looked at you that you were a tightass, but _damn,_ ” Lorne shifts, accidentally-on-purpose nudging something inside him so Lester whimpers and tilts his hips.  
“I'm not gonna be gentle,” Lorne says. And he isn't. But that isn't what Lester needs right now.

Lester needs the hard, swift pounding that Lorne gives him, Lester needs the slaps on his ass, the hand pulling his hair out of its ridiculous messy-stylish coiffure. Lester needs to be told what to do. Lester needs to be treated badly, because he is and always had been a bad boy. Lester needed to be punished.

Lorne obliges.

Lester actually comes before Lorne, even though the pressure of his hand is woefully inadequate, and Lorne rides on for a while, gruff curses under his breath mixed with rough-affectionate kisses on Lester's back. Lester lets out a thin moan through his nose and Lorne suddenly bucks up.

Lester is naughty enough to allow himself a smile.

Lorne rolls off of him and they lay panting side-by-side. Lester knows that Linda could come in any minute and catch him(them) and he would deserved the inevitable messy fallout, but that traitorous part of him just wants to lie here forever and be dirty and used, right next to Lorne as if that's where he belongs.

Lorne scratches his beard and stares at a point somewhere beyond the ceiling.

Lester gets up off the bed and rummages through their clothes. His wife would smell it, she would smell it all. Lester doesn't care. It takes him a few tries, but soon he brings a lit cigarette to Lorne and puts it dutifully between his ring and middle fingers. Lorne takes a puff and, with the other hand, pats his head.

“Good boy.”

 


End file.
